Condemned are the Peacemakers
by Pokekid543
Summary: A gifted young man believes that the world is corrupt, and he could fix it if given the chance. With the aid of a mute genie, he gets his chance, but he quickly finds that his new found power will lead him to his steady downfall. Along with him and the sudden appearances of Mystery Dungeons, the Pokemon of Chamois are desperate for a hero to save them.
1. Pleasant Drive

_All parents damage their children. It cannot be helped. Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few chatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair._

_-Mitch Albom_

Act 1, Chapter 1

Pleasant Drive

Harold Johnson was a smart kid that often did stupid things; it was common knowledge to his friends and family. If he made a peanut butter and jam sandwich, he'd put the cap of the peanut jar over his lemonade and place the jar in the cupboard, where it would be left until one of his parents noticed. When he was in grade school, he learned how to play both the violin and the viola, but never played once he got to high school. He did things like this, but he really was a smart kid.

At the age of eleven, he'd created a robot the size of his Tepig that could run like the little fire-type, and served as a playmate for him when he was busy studying. He won first prize in practically every science fair he participated in, and in all truth he was level-headed and curious. He was a perfectionist, though, and wanted everything he laid his eyes on to be perfect. It annoyed him to no extent when he couldn't make something perfect.

That's why when he got his score on his latest history test, he was pissed. But by the time he got home, that molten anger had cooled into anguish. He felt hollow inside as he stood in the living room, waiting for his father's verdict. It was just his luck that today was Thursday, and the man was off of work.

Finally, after what felt like an hour of miserable waiting, the man stood up and looked down at his son, brows furrowed and veins bulging on his strained neck. "How many times have I told you; you have to be what?"

Harold lowered his head more, trying to shrink. He heard the all too familiar sound of his father unbuckling his belt. Once again, in an even harsher tone than before, the man said, "You have to be what!?"

"Twice as good." The boy murmured. He was given a quick, leathery smack on his arm.

"WHAT?"

"TWICE AS GOOD." Harold gasped, standing straighter.

"Twice as good as them to get HALF of what they have."

At four, Harold was given permission to head upstairs. Wiping snot from his puffy cheeks with his numb arm, the boy didn't make eye contact with the Pokémon as he shut himself in his room. He also refused to look at himself in the mirror, knowing full well what he looked like: a failure. Using his bed sheets, he escaped out of his home and ran.

There was one thing that made him tick over all the rest, and that was society. The bank was corrupt, as was the government and the schools. People were corrupt, committing unspeakable crimes under the darkness of night, and even more in the light of day. He thought them to be terrible beings by nature, hypocritical in every situation and most were too close-minded to see it. As he walked down Pleasant Drive, which couldn't be named more inappropriately, he was reminded of the imperfections of the world.

It was, to be frank, a dump. Shattered beer bottles littered the ground, accompanied with cardboard boxes, soiled from the rain, and plain old trash. Gum wrappers, soda cans, cigarette buds and plastics covered the street. Although it'd be hell for a driver, it sure was pleasant for the feral Trubbish, who were having a contest of sorts. They expelled small clouds of poisonous fumes from their mouths, laughing all the while. It disgusted him.

Harold had been aimlessly wandering the streets of Nimbasa City to get his mind off of it all. His father for one, but also his loss to Elesa, the city's gym leader, before school. He and Den had managed to defeat her Emolga, but the Flaaffy was destructive. Losing for the fifth time only reminded him that he wasn't perfect, and it infuriated him so much that his cheeks and ears burned deep. Scientifically speaking, there was no way he'd lose with his strategy, but here he was, Bolt Badge-less.

"Come here, child." The boy paused, thinking he heard a voice. Looking around he found that the place was, oddly enough, empty, so he shook his head and continued walking. He heard the voice, soft and raspy, call to him once more and stopped. There was a lady in the alley. She was as pale as a ghost, with crimson red eyes. She wore a heavy black cloak in the middle of the afternoon and held a beaten umbrella over her head that had patched holes, barely stopping the sun's rays from poking through. He figured that she was albino, considering her appearance and her going through such lengths to avoid the sun's radiance from touching her.

Harold decided it was safe to go and speak to her, so long that he stayed in the sunlight where she couldn't touch him. She looked so weak that he didn't feel the need to keep his guard up.

"Why are you unhappy?" He was not expecting that. Seriously? She calls him in a voice that sounded a bit desperate to ask him that? "Do you not have a home? Loving parents? Milk to drink and bread to eat? Please tell me why you are unhappy."

Harold thought for a moment, running his left hand through his prickly black hair. Obviously she wasn't talking about something as small as losing a gym battle. She wanted to know why he was unhappy in general, and there was one simple answer. "...Society," She didn't say anything but the look she gave him showed that she wanted him to elaborate. Eh, what the heck. He never gets to voice his thoughts and this stranger was giving him a chance, so he'd take it. "People and Pokémon, for example... we're so cruel to each other. Humans make Pokémon battles for prize money, Pokémon destroy human towns. It's terrible! And I feel so... unhappy, when I'm reminded that I can't... I can't change that, no matter what I do."

The woman nodded, "I see. And if you had the power to change the imperfections of the world, would you do it, and at what cost?"

"Of course I would!" Harold exclaimed. These questions weren't really making sense. Why was she asking them in the first place? "Any cost! It'll be worth it!" The woman stared at him for a moment before nodding and turning, sinking into the shadows of the ally once again. Harold had no idea what that was all about. She just asked him weird questions and turned and left. What was the point of it?

"Maybe she was crazy..." He muttered, and turned to leave. He needed to get home before his mother got home. She'd worry.

"Take this with you." The boy, having slow reflexes, barely caught the object before it collided into his rib cage. It was a lamp, like that of a fairy tale, and it was made of pure, solid gold. 0% Pyrite. The nozzle made an 'S' like shape until it connected to the sleek yet portly body. It didn't have a handle but the cover at the top had inscriptions upon it, which, to his distaste, he couldn't encipher.

"There is a Pokémon in there. He will grant you three wishes." Harold stared at the magic treasure in awe, ideas entering his mind like rapid-fire. Was she for serious? Was this really happening? He'll need to leave quickly and figure this out before she changes her mind. If this was true, he could really make his wish come true, plus two extra. He could solve world hunger or create world peace... o-or even start a world of his own! Yes! "It will do as you ask without question. But be cautious, young one, for-"

Harold didn't even want to listen anymore. Every second he wasted here with her, hundreds- if not thousands- of lives were being destroyed. "Thanks lady!" He shouted. He ran off, the item snug and secure under his arm.

The woman shook her head as she watched the boy in the red shirt and black shorts run off. He was going to do something he'd regret. She turned and entered the darkness of the alley once more, a faint smile on her otherwise grim face.

"And so it begins..."

_**XXXXXXXXXX**_

Johnson had confirmed his first wish way before he made it home, but he shuffled upstairs, to his bedroom, and hid the lamp in his closet. As much as he wanted to make his wish, he had a responsibility as a trainer to feed both he and his Pokémon appropriately. His father was no longer home; he probably went out drinking again.

Den had been sleeping for the past three hours when his trainer woke him up. He seemed happy, which was rare. When they lost a battle, normally he'd be grumpy for the rest of the day. The Tepig was happy that Harold had a change of heart so early in the day because he'd get a bit more to eat. He drooled as he thought of the grains he'd eat as he followed Harold to the kitchen. The teen poured him a bowl of Tepig food, which consisted of barley, oats, and corn, and a large bowl of water. He dug in immediately, happy to eat.

Harold ate his dinner as quickly as he could. He needed to make his first wish before his parents returned home at eight. He finished in record time, tying with Den. He dumped his dishes in the sink and ran up the stairs, tailed by the curious Tepig.

"Alright, Den, you won't believe what this crazy lady gave me!" The Fire Pig watched as his trainer took out a golden item from his closet. He cocked his head to the side. A lamp? That was why Harold was so excited? Harold added, as if he could read his thoughts, "It's a magic lamp!" It's a magic…?

Harold frowned when his Tepig fell to the side, laughing his little head off. He was serious about this. "Look, I'll show you." The boy figured that if this was anything like the lamps in fairy tales, all he had to do was rub it, so he did so with his sleeve.

Nothing.

"Um…" Harold said, a slight blush of embarrassment over his cheeks. It didn't work. He inspected the golden item for a moment, one hand over his chin. "M-Maybe I just need to pull the top off…"

Den oinked even louder when his trainer attempted to pull the small cap off and failed. Then came his teeth, followed by his power tools, but nothing worked. It was so hilarious that the Tepig barely managed to crawl out of the room, still laughing (He was yelling 'Open sesame' and 'Alakazam'), before returning in thirty minutes for another round of laughter. By then his trainer had given up and his bedroom floor was littered with power tools, an exhausted look on his face. Den instantly felt guilty for laughing at him and walked over, sitting on the boy's lap.

"I don't know why it won't open…" Harold sighed. He inspected the lamp in front of him with one hand whilst scratching Den behind the ears with his other. He figured that maybe that lady really was off her rocker, and this was just a normal lamp. A normal, impenetrable lamp. Why did he even believe her? A magic lamp? Impossible! There wasn't even any evidence to back up such a ridiculous idea.

Suddenly, he felt something click in the back of his mind and he gasped, mouth hanging open. "You've got to be kidding me…!"

Harold pushed the power tools to the side and set the lamp on his desk. He stood up, leaving an annoyed Den to fall on the floor. He counted that as payback for laughing at him and said to the golden item, "Can you please open…?"

Den literally soiled the polished wood floor when he saw the humongous Pokémon that emerged from the lamp, casting a terrifying shadow over the room.

Harold, on the other hand, couldn't've been in higher spirits. Rubbing his hands together as a villain would in a cartoon, he fell into a hysterical fit of laughter. Finally, he could change the disgusting world he was born in, and make it perfect!

Grinning devilishly, he said to the Pokémon, "I've got a job for you."

* * *

**A/N: And so begins an adventure of a lifetime! This is a little project of mine I've been thinking about for the past year, so I hope you enjoy it. My friend, OreosTasteGood, and I are having a little race called the Digital Skitty Challenge. I'm sure you know who DS is. We hope to get in 150,000 words before the end of the year, so expect longer chapters in the future. I sincerely hope you enjoy what I have to offer.**

**Well, until next time! **

**-PK543**


	2. I Want

Act 1, Chapter 2

I Want

"I wish for infinite wishes." Harold said. Before he went on with what he planned to do, he needed reassurance that he could fix any problems he came across. What better way than infinite wishes? The Genie raised a brow as he looked down at his new master and his cowardly Tepig, waiting. Harold rolled his eyes, giving an exasperated sigh. "Can I please have infinite wishes?"

The blue spirit nodded, but still looked unsatisfied with the boy's tone.

Den slowly backed out of the room, full intentions on getting away from the blue creature.

"Alright then," Harold said, allowing the smile to return to his face. Even if he had to ask for everything, his dreams would come true. "Could you please create world peace?" The Genie of the lamp nodded, pleasantly surprised that his master wasn't being selfish. He snapped his fingers and there was a bright light, which scared the daylights out of Den. As quickly that the light had come, it had gone. Harold, unsure of whether the wish had truly come true, asked,

"That's it? There's world peace now?"

The genie nodded, but Harold still didn't entirely trust him. It seemed a bit too... easy. Jumping onto his bed, he opened the window. The sight outside surprised him. In fact, it scared him.

There were no Pokémon.

Normally his street would be filled with children and their Pokémon playing games and having battles, but there was no sign of the creatures. The neighborhood kids played freeze-tag, hopscotch, and street hockey. They had tea parties with dolls-human dolls- on the lawns, they talked, they played football. They weren't being watched by their parents' Pokémon, but rather, middle and high school students looking for some extra money.

Harold ran downstairs to the living room and turned on the television. Channel four, the battling channel, channel one hundred thirty, Pokémon Planet, channels fifty-two, twenty-six, and two hundred, Everything Pokémon, 24/7. None of those channels existed anymore. They were replaced with news channels with no hint of a Pokémon. Harold checked over more channels, those that always had Pokémon, and they were all the same. At some point something clicked and he screamed in terror, "Den!"

The teen sprinted through his home, calling the pig's name, but there was no oink- not even when he offered treats. The pictures that hung in the hallways had three smiling humans, no Tepig, no Braviary, no Liepard. Harold started hyperventilating, tears streaming down his cheeks as he realized the urgency of the situation. His best friend was gone.

"No! No! No! No! No!" He screamed hysterically as he crumbled to the ground, "No! Come back! Den!"

The boy cried so loudly that the neighbors heard and came to check on him. What they saw frightened them, because they could see that the boy wouldn't listen to anything they said, as if he was in his own cruel world. When they got too close, his thrashing would get them bloody noses and scars. 911 arrived to the scene in a matter of seconds, strapping the hysterical boy down and driving him to the hospital.

Genie, who quietly watched his master's reaction in the sidelines, felt rather... touched, that the boy would care so much. The blue man snapped his fingers and evaporated, leaving a faint smog in his place.

_**XXXXXXXXXX**_

"Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!" Harold roared, banging against the door to his new bedroom. Apparently, believing that Pokémon are living, breathing creatures that are partners and best friends lands you in the madhouse. The doctors said that he should be brought to this… glorified prison so that he could get some quality therapy before he goes mad- well, madder than he already was. What did his parents say? It was for his "own good."

He'd been there for weeks, only seeing the light of day when he was being supervised. When he tried to explain to his therapist what had gone on, that just strengthened their beliefs that he was a nutcase. After losing his patience (He hates being told he's wrong), he'd assaulted the therapist in a fit of rage and it took the staff a good fifteen minutes to get him off the grey-haired man. Luckily the therapist didn't press any charges.

Sighing, Harold gave up opening the locked door and walked back to his bed so he could

continue his time out. He had a notebook and a pencil he kept under his pillow, where he drew pictures of Pokémon, specifically Tepig. Sure, he wasn't even close to the best artist, but it was a good way to pass the time and remember why he had to give up his wish on world peace. If this was the cost, he'd rather let them fight.

When he edited his picture for the millionth time, which was of him and Den when they first met, he started to tear up. Even when he tried to hold it back, he was unable to. He knew that he was responsible for this. He knew that it was his fault that Den and all other Pokémon had been whipped from the face of the Earth, not leaving even a trace of their existence behind them. He knew that he needed to get out of there fast and tell the genie he wants the world to go back to normal.

The event was unlikely.

"I need to get out of here..." Harold muttered, ripping the paper from the notebook and folding it. He was on the fourth floor of the building, and getting down wasn't the hard part. The estate itself was huge so the crazies could get their vitamin D, and it was crawling with nurses, which were really guards. How was he supposed to escape? But don't worry; this is Harold Johnson we're talking about.

He waited. ...And waited. And then he waited some more, until he got what he wanted. A nurse entered his room at lunch time, and he slipped past her. Quietly running down his hall, he took the stairs. Everything was fine until his path was crossed with a guard when he was almost to floor one, and the chase commenced. He ran back up to floor two and ran, jumped, ducked, ad dodged nurses.

Sadly, his run for freedom was short-lived, as he was cornered within seconds by twenty of the officers. One of them slowly took a few steps closer to him and spoke in the calmest voice he could muster, as if Harold was a bird that would fly away if he did anything abrupt. "C'mon Harold, you should go back to your room-"

"Hell no!" The teen shouted. There was no way in hell that he'd return to that cell. He crossed his arms to cover his neck and face, and in one swift motion, jumped. Much to the horror and amazement of onlookers, a sixteen year old boy, cloaked with his own crimson and shattered glass, fell two stories.

When they were asked what they thought about the entire scene, some would say they must've dreamed it. Others, that it was Batman and he'd forgotten his wings. The extremely mad suggested that it was an alien, trying to avoid getting abducted and the government is hiding everything from them.

But most said that it was the stupidest thing they'd ever seen.

Harold was taken to the hospital on account of two broken legs and one sprained arm. His limbs

were put in casts to heal, and he was watched over by nurses 24/7 after that incident. He was back in his cage, to be tamed. But Harold was no caged bird. He lied in wait for his opportunity, but it took two weeks for it to arrive.

His parents had been visiting when they asked him about a particular item they'd found in his bedroom. He wouldn't let the opportunity fly by. "Genie!" He shouted, "Please come out!" As he asked, the blue spirit emerged from the lamp in a cloud of smoke, his sheer mass and appearance making the adults and the nurses faint. Harold would've laughed at that, but he had

more important things to tend to. "I wish world peace was never achieved, and that I was back in my room with Den!" Feeling the urgency in the boy's voice, Genie snapped his fingers.

When Harold opened his eyes, he was in his room, where power tools littered the urinated floor. He ran and hugged the Fire Pig so hard that he would've died if his trainer hadn't paused to look him in the eyes. "I'm so happy to see you again, Den! You wouldn't believe what I've gone through…" Den was confused. Harold was acting weirder than normally, saying that there's a world where Pokémon don't exist. How strange.

**_XXXXXXXXXX_**

Dinner time. Harold had taken this time for granted, always thinking that his six-member family would be there. "So how was your day, Harold?" His mother asked.

"Did you beat Elesa?" His father snuck some of his brussel sprouts to his Liepard while his wife had her attention elsewhere.

"Nope! We beat her Emolga but lost to her Flaaffy." His father frowned but he wasn't surprised; he knew how much of a failure his son was at Pokemon training. The man had given up on that career choice long ago.

"And you're happy about that?" His mother asked. When Harold nodded, her eyebrow raised in confusion. "Well, that's… new."

"Don't worry, though," Harold said, trying to reassure his parents. In all honesty, their reactions were completely logical. He hated to lose. "Den and I are going to train even harder for that badge, right?" He turned to Den, who was quietly trying to snag a few bits of Braviary's food while the Valiant Pokémon was focusing on the humans' conversation. When the bird turned to him, he backed up sheepishly, returning to his already empty bowl, and nodded.

The rest of dinner went on as normal dinners did, with Harold participating in conversations more often. When he got back into bed for the night, he started to consider his next wish.

He'd seen a world in which humans dominated, and feared it. He was born in a world where there was a content medium between the two, and he loathed it.

So what about a world in which Pokémon dominated?

Harold had waited another month, during which he trained with Den. The Tepig had evolved, which was great. With the aid of a Rocky Helmet they'd bought from a small shop, they finally beat that Flaaffy, but Elesa's Zebstrika crushed them despite their hard work. It was incredibly frustrating for the both of them, leading Harold to make his next wish. Maybe if he understood Pokémon a bit more, he'd be able to defeat Elesa. But if he found the perfect world, there'd be no need to go back.

It was a bad idea, a very bad idea.

Genie gave Harold a new form, a Sawk was the closest thing to a human he could be. Sure his bronze skin turned blue and he only had three fingers, but those were the least of his problems. A world in which Pokémon dominated was what he asked for, and it was what he got. The new world, from what he saw, was environmentally friendly, with no technology and no need for weapons. "Pokémon don't need manufactured weapons, do they?" He murmured bitterly. "They're weapons that just needed to be fed regularly."

The first thing Harold noticed was that he'd lost the Genie again. That Pokémon could be anywhere in the world. And even worse, Den was gone too. Harold spent hours looking for him, calling out through the town. The place was huge, and it could get pretty confusing because every structure was pretty much the same, wooden. Sure there were stalls where the Pokémon sold weird items like "gummies" and "radar orbs," but other than that it was just a big town at the edge of a forest.

Harold was quickly losing his stability, and getting hungry by the second day of searching. He'd tried to go in the forest to look for food but the wild Pokémon there were ready to take him out. He'd slept in a cranny between two wooden buildings and by the time early morning came, a group of thugs found him. They said some words, he said some more. The scene that followed wasn't pretty.

So the Sawk dragged himself through the streets with blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, a few missing teeth, and a roaring stomach. The Pokémon here weren't nice or kind-hearted. None of them would give him so much as an Oran Berry, and he could feel that those thugs were watching him, snickering to themselves whenever he tripped. He couldn't help it- they'd misplaced his left leg and he had to connect the bones again. That was brutal, and the pain wouldn't stop.

"I need to find Thundurus…" He muttered to himself, wincing as he put weight on his injured foot and quickly switching legs. "First thing I'm gonna do… ask him to fix my leg and tell me where the heck Den is." But where could he find either of them? He was pretty sure he'd searched the entire town, so maybe they weren't even here in the first place. So that he didn't scare himself with the possibility of that being true, he stopped and leaned on the back of a nearby stall. The Kecleon that was running it didn't seem to mind; she probably couldn't care less.

Harold muttered to himself, a habit he'd started picking up at the hospital. It was a nice way to keep him sane when everything went wrong. "Last time this happened, Genie was still in his lamp, and he was in my house. I'm guessing this is where my house is, somewhere." He glanced at the forest. Even though he was in the center of the town, Harold could see the treetops towering over the wooden roofs. He'd felt it for a while now. He knew that there was no way he could make it past the first line of trees but… "Maybe someone else can…"

"Excuse me, miss?" Harold, using the counter of the shop to give him support, stood and asked to the Kecleon, "Do you know anybody that can help me get into the forest?"

The purple Pokémon gave him a sidelong glance for a moment, and returned her attention to her customer. "Why would you need to go into the Mystic Woods?" Harold was silent, and the woman just shrugged it off. "Hmph, none of my business, I guess. You'd have to get an exploration team to help you."

Harold perked up a bit. "Where do I find one?" The Keckleon pointed to a large building, labeled as a bar. This was strange to Harold. Pokémon drink beer? "Most of them are in there."

"Thank you," The Sawk said, nodding to her gratefully. She didn't say anything as the fighting type slowly limped to the doors. If the Pokémon at the top got a hold of him, that'd be one less Ratatta on the streets stealing her berries.

Harold slowly opened the heavy wooden doors and paused for a moment, taking in his surroundings. The strong smell of beer met his nostrils, and he held back a cough. He'd never liked the drink, and these Pokémon obviously went all out. The bar was filled with multitudes of them, ranging from Arboks to Ursarings, drinking, talking, arm wrestling, some fighting.

The Pokémon that caught his eye were surrounding a pig with a yellow helmet with jagged rocks implanted into it on his head. They were the rowdiest of the bunch, all of them with scars decorating their bodies. They were around a large rectangular table, listening to a familiar Zangoose's story. The drunken ferret giggled to himself before finishing, "I broke his leg and he started screamin', beggin' fer me ta stop! Heh, I let 'im go outa the goodness of my 'eart."

The listening Pokémon didn't say anything for a millisecond, all of them carefully watching the pig in the helmet. Once the pig started chuckling, all of them roared with exaggerated laughter. They'd waited for the okay of Den? Harold paused for a moment and stared at the Pignite. It was Den, he confirmed. There, on his right ear, he spotted that ugly nick he'd received from another trainer's Meowth in a battle a few days prior. What was Den- Den of all Pokemon- doing with thugs?

The Pignite's happy expression hardened and slowly turned his head to face the Sawk. He'd been staring at him for much too long. Who he was, that didn't matter. You don't just step into his bar and look at him like that. Den's nostrils flared and he drew his lips back a bit, showing his sharp teeth. He subordinates, noticing this, turned to the now nervous Sawk as well.

The Zangoose laughed and waved at Harold, giggling, "Hey, it's the Sawk I told ya 'bout!" He hiccupped and fell backwards, out of his seat and on the ground, out cold.

By now the entire bar was silent. The other Pokémon acted like they didn't see anything, but they watched from the corner of their eyes. Harold slowly backed away. He didn't care much about the group of Pokémon slowly moving forward to break his neck, but the look in Den's eyes told him everything. He'd only seen that look when the Piginte was just a newborn Tepig in his preschool class. He'd loved everybody accept him, always giving him dirty looks and sending smoke in his face.

His eyes were red. Anger seemed to flow out of him in waves.

And once a thin stream of smoke emerged from the Pokémon's nostrils as he stepped forward, Harold knew exactly what it meant. Run.

"Get him!" Den roared, pointing at the fleeing Sawk. The Pokémon did as they were told, emptying more than 60% of the bar and filling the streets. With the help of an all too happy Kecleon, they started searching the southern end of town. For a Sawk with a broken leg, he was going pretty fast.

Harold's foot was getting worse by the second. Every time he put weight on it, it sent a shock of pain up his leg. He had a hard time not yelling out in pain due to the fear of getting detected. And to make matters worse, all the townspeople were purposely avoiding him. Apparently news travels fast here.

But… why was Den so angry at him? Was it because… did he blame him for their repeated losses to Elesa? Admittedly, Harold knew that battling wasn't his strongest subject- it never has been- but he didn't think that this would tip Den over the edge. He needed to find Genie, and soon.

"Yo, I heard you were looking for an Exploration Team?" Harold jerked his head to the left and looked down. Running alongside him on four paws- or hands, rather- was a Monferno. Harold nodded, and the Pokémon turned a sharp right into an alley. "Follow me, then!" He was desperate and didn't feel like being killed by rampaging Pokémon, so he followed. The fire type ran into a small door, and Harold had to crouch down to enter.

"Welcome to the base of Team Comet!" The Monferno announced happily. The home was honestly very small, with not much stuff. A Vibrava slept on one of the two straw piles in the middle of the room. There weren't any windows but there was a small chest in the corner, over which two pins and a sack sat. The pins reminded Harold of a Poke ball, albeit with strange wings on the sides.

Despite all this, Harold was desperate. He needed to get into that forest and get the lamp. "So you can take me into the forest, right?"

"For a fee." The Vibrava yawned, groggily waking from his sleep. When Harold opened his mouth to explain that he didn't have any, the Pokémon continued, "Don't worry, we're new at this so you don't have to pay much." The Monferno groaned at his friend's honesty. The Sawk was clearly not a native to the area and new to the exploration team concept- they could've gotten more Poke!

Harold nodded, "I'll pay you afterwards."

The Monferno put up an optimistic smile nonetheless, "It's a deal, then."

**_XXXXXXXXXX_**

They left for the Mystic Woods late at night, to avoid any run-ins with Den's goons. The idea of Den being a mob boss, as Team Comet had stated, made Harold confused. Sweet little Den was a gangster?

"Well, not really." Jeff, the Monferno, scratched his head in the stereotypical monkey fashion. He was struggling to find the words. "He's still a one-mon show. It's just... he's so strong that no one wants to get on his bad side, see." He cringed, "Now that they've got Den on their side, they do whatever they want. They pretty much own the place."

"Why hasn't anyone tried to stop them?"

"I told you, it's Den. No one wants to get on his bad side… Well, that is, except you apparently. What did you do to get him so mad?"

Harold shook his head. "I have no idea."

"We should be nearing the center by now," Jeff commented, exhaling loudly. Unlike his partner, the Monferno had taken down most of the enemies that had emerged from the trees and scared others off in the process. It'd taken the wind out of him. The trio agreed to take a break and feast on the wild oran berry bushy they found.

"...So this is a Mystery Dungeon, huh?" Harold said. They'd fallen into an uncomfortable silence. "Are they all like this?"

"Of course not!" Tim laughed, "Mystery Dungeons are always different, both in location and layout. They're places in the world where time and space are a bit distorted. the distortion alters the area every few hours, which makes navigation harder for the average Pokemon."

Harold nodded. That would explain why he couldn't tell left from right in this crazy forest. The ground type continued, happy to boast his knowledge. "When you make it through a Dungeon, sometimes it'll lead you to new places and sometimes it's a big loop. Like here, for example. At the end of this dungeon is Carney's Point. It's called that because of this really neat story..."

Small talk aside, the lack of opponents relaxed Harold a bit. He put his weight on a sturdy walking stick they'd given him and the aching in his foot had started to calm down after he ate some of the blue fruit.

Harold was only half listening to Tim's explanation of the forest's long history now. His eyes shifted slowly, scanning the small clearing's borders. He'd noticed it out of the corner of his eyes: a red and white sphere with a black ring coiling around it. It'd appear for a quick second before disappearing in the underbrush once more.

He coughed, "Say, do you know what a Pokeball is, Tim?"

The Vibrava paused from his ramblings and thought for a moment. "I've never heard that word before. Why do you ask?"

"Just a random thought, that's all." Harold shrugged and stood up. "Excuse me."

"Don't go too far!" Jeff called. Harold gave him a thumbs up and scurried into the bushes.

It didn't take him long to see the Pokeball, but the closer he got the farther it went. Always just out of reach. It left a sweet scent in its wake, kind of like the overpowering smell of syrup on soggy pancakes.

Finally, the ball slowed down before coming to a stop. Harold took another step forward, hoping to pick it up for a closer look. By now the sweet smell had started to become too much. It made him nauseous, but he desperately wanted to know: It seemed that the Pokemon here didn't know what Pokeballs were, so why would there be one here, of all places? And why would it be bouncing like that. Was the ball some sort of human remnant left over from Genie's spell? Was that even possible?

Covering his pointed nose with his shirt collar, the boy leaned in and grabbed the ball. It shot forward and hit his neck. He jumped back and placed his free hand around his neck, coughing. He opened his eyes again and saw the creature shuffle out from the thicket. The Pokeball was connected to a long stem that led to a mushroom-like Pokemon with beady little eyes.

It was an Amoonguss, Harold confirmed. He remembered it from the grass unit in Poke Studies. He hated grass types; If it weren't for those blasted status moves of theirs they'd be the weakest type out there. He remembered enough about this particular Pokemon to get pissed off as to how easily he was fooled.

It lures prey close by dancing and waving its Pokeball-like arm caps in a swaying motion, but very few Pokémon are fooled by it. Didn't the trainer that came in with her Amoonguss say it was normally very stupid Pokemon like Pidove who fell for it? His was definitely nowhere near the walnut-sized thing the subspecies considered a brain.

The grass type jabbed its capped hand at him. He avoided it with ease, but he didn't expect the capsule to break open and send an orange haze toward him. He dropped and rolled out of its way, but the Amoonguss wasn't done. The second he stood up it barreled him into a tree.

Harold gasped for breath. Amoonguss was pushing its grey vine against his neck, keeping him situated two feet above the ground. He was unable to defend himself from the spores its other hand released. The boy hissed at the pain and shook violently, trying to get out of the Pokemon's grip. His hands were beginning to feel numb- what was he gonna do?! He was too young to die!

He bit down on the stem as hard as he could. The Amoonguss screeched and let him go. Harold fell to his knees and took in as much air as he could.

The Pokemon frowned and tried to slam into him again. Harold moved to the side and grabbed the arm, twisting it. The Amoonguss was unfazed and shot another orange haze at him with its free hand. Harold moved away. His opponent went in for another slam. It got repetitive.

Harold wondered why the heck he was doing this, running from an overgrown mushroom. Genie had turned him into a Sawk- he could take it on. All he needed to do was stop acting like a human. Be a Sawk.

This time, when the grass type got close enough, he grabbed its stems and began to twist them into one. It huffed and readied another spore attack. The second he saw the yellow spores drifting out of the caps, Harold twisted them into Amoonguss' face. It sneezed loudly and began to jerk from side to side. Harold sent a hard punch in its face, making it cross eyed.

In its dazed state the Amoonguss couldn't untangle its vies, making it even more defenseless. Harold sent a blow to its midsection, quickly followed by a hard kick to its side. He must've hit a nerve, because the Amoonguss squealed loudly and bounced away, twitching every now and again. Harold grinned at his victory.

No longer was he bound by human faults. He was plenty smart on his own, but this strength was amazing, compared to what he originally was. After all those years of hating his body, it was something new. Something different.

He remembered back in middle school, when all the guys were developing; getting mustaches and deeper voices. They were getting buff, too, and some of them seemed to grow 6 inches overnight. As the smallest in his class, barely reaching 5"4', Harold couldn't wait for puberty to hit. He'd be the top of the class in gym, and he'd be the conversation of every girl in school, and life would be perfect…

But it wasn't. Instead of getting taller, his voice got high-pitched. He wanted muscles. He got acne. Oh, the acne was the worst part. A new pimple appeared every hour, a zit every day. Coupled with his anti-social attitude, his nerdiness and those humongous glasses of his, It wasn't long before he was labeled as "Pizza Face" and became the main target of those boys he wished he could be like. He wasn't anywhere near as tough as them, so self defense was out of the question. And it didn't get better; in fact some days he contemplated ending it all.

Oh but now… now he had the muscle power to easily overtake any bully he came into contact with and then some. He clenched his fists and smiled again. They felt tough. He felt tough. With the adrenaline he had, he could probably take on the Fighting Type Master himself. Marshal wouldn't stand a chance against him.

He really was a Pokémon, wasn't he?

It kind of felt…right.

"We heard shouting! What happened?" Harold quickly composed himself. The other two were ducking under some low branches, looking ready to fight. They'd expected a pack of Mightyena, from the noise, but all they found was the Sawk, uninjured.

"I just bumped into an Amoonguss," He said, "No trouble."

"Hey, your leg got better!" Jeff said. Harold shook his right leg a bit. No pain. He laughed,

"Would you look at that."

After a few more minutes of walking, they reached a cliff face. The top seemed to reach the heavens, but Harold could see Genie's lamp just a few meters up, lodged in a crack in the rock.. He was so close. "That's what I was looking for," He said, pointing at the golden object.

"I got it," Tim offered. He started beating his wings at a rapid speed, so fast that they might as well have not been there in the first place. The Vibrava flew up to the lamp and grabbed it. He started to pull hard but soon called down, "It's lodged pretty deep!" Jeff decided to climb up and help him. With the fighting type's fists bulldozing through the rock, Jerry was able to pull it out and pass it to Harold, who immediately ordered Genie to appear.

Tim and Jeff were terrified, slowly backing away in fear as the blue Pokémon emerged from the golden top, surrounded by thick smoke.

On his head, a single purple horn which could rival the sharpness of a Beedrill's. He had white, zigzagging and jutting styled hair, a spiky white mustache and two pointed blue ears on either side of his head. The irises of his gold eyes were a holy white compared to his demonic form, which was dotted with irregularly shaped purple spots against his blue skin. The smoke circled the Genie's lower body, with a long cable-like purple tail connected to it.

Harold raised his head to make eye contact with the great beast, showing no signs of fear. In fact, he had a smile on. Tim and Jeff couldn't describe it as anything other than twisted. The promise of melancholy was sealed on those lips "Genie, I wish to become a king, if you please."

And Thundurus sighed as he granted his master's wish.


	3. Race

Act 1, Chapter 3

Race

When Harold opened his eyes, he wasn't in a throne like he'd imagined. Not at all. He was sitting on a bench. He groaned; where had Genie dumped him this time?

A quick scan of his immediate area gave him three important bits of information.

He was still blue, and wearing some kind of white t-shirt now, rather than the karate uniform he wore earlier. If it weren't for his black belt keeping it just above his knees, it might have been a dress. As he walked, a sour expression on his face, he noticed that the Pokemon around him parted, giving him space to walk through. Harold snorted, refusing to make eye contact, and began to walk faster. Right, he had no idea where the heck this was, but he didn't like it.

"Master Harold!" A Simipour in a shirt-dress like himself turned the corner up ahead and ran over. He stopped in front of him and gasped for air, making Harold step back a bit. The water type was quite dirty; he had dirt on his tan clothes, a layer of sweat caked his brow and he smelled like fresh fish. "Master Harold, what are you doing here?" Not giving him a chance to reply, he shook his head and began to push the confused boy forward. "Never mind. We must go quickly or we'll be late. What would the Mistress think, finding you sleeping in the slums?"

"Who are you?"

"Please, sir, now isn't the time for your jokes. We're already late." The water type hissed at the pain of a jagged rock on his bare foot, but continued to lead the way. As they ran Harold saw more and more Pokemon gathering around food stalls, making small talk. The atmosphere was lighter, too, and people played lighthearted jokes on one another. But still they moved aside for him, murmuring greetings.

The blue monkey led him to what seemed to be a festival of sorts, then to a moderately sized wooden building. Harold quickly identified it as a stable, considering the architecture. There were rows on rows of quadruped Pokemon in stalls, each looking fit and ready to go.

"And here is your steed." The Simipour said, motioning at a Scolipede. It was a large one, at least six feet tall, minus those sharp horns. Its violet scales gleamed with a healthy sheen, its muscles flexed when he ran his hand over its back, and its black eyes were sharp and narrow. The way that Scolipede looked at him gave off the promise of success. Harold liked that.

Simipour hummed to himself as he scribbled his clipboard. "Mistress Cassia has spared no expense on getting you the finest in all of Chamois. 'Nothing but the best for the Emperor's nephew!' she said." Harold paused and mentally cursed. Genie was quite a prick, wasn't he?

"Second best!" Someone laughed. Harold and Simipour turned to see a young man smiling at them. He couldn't have been more than a year older than Harold, guessing from his tone of voice. It was loud and rough, but good humored, the polar opposite of Harold's. This Pokemon was wearing a tunic as well. It was white with a gold trim, giving him a regal look. He even had a crown adorning his brow. It was made of leaves, it seemed. Simipour bowed low enough for his dreads to touch the dirt floor while Harold gave a steely glare. The Hitmonchan thought nothing of it. "Relax, cousin, 'tis all good fun."

"Hm." It was a goofy smile. Arrogant.

The fighting type quickly changed the subject. "So I've entered the battling tournament. I haven't battled in a while but I think I'll be fine. Maybe you'd like to enter as well?" Harold kept silent, his arms crossed. He seized the boy up. He was his height;strong muscles and a curious glint in his eyes. Bright red boxing gloves. The Hitmonchan laughed again at his silence, his voice bellowing loudly. "How silly of me; of course you will! I would expect nothing more from the Karate King!"

"Damn you, Genie." Harold mentally added an array of colorful words to that.

The remark did not go unnoticed. The Hitmonchan furrowed his brow, trembling a bit. He looked ready to kill. "Excuse me?" He growled, "What did you say, cousin?" The Ambipom behind him- his slave- flinched visibly and gave Simipour a look. "Cut it out. Now."

"N-Nothing sire!" Simipour quickly pulled Harold back, as far away from the red-eyed boxer as he could without insulting his social standing. This, of course, was a hard job, considering the fact that the Sawk had froze at his cousin's sudden change in attitude. So the water type stood between them. "Master Harold is simply eager to battle you. Sometimes his excitement can get the best of him, that's all. Please forgive him for that, Prince Frederik. He means no offense." Harold nodded.

Frederik kept glaring at him for a few more minutes. With each passing moment Harold could feel the Hitmonchan throwing imaginary shots at him. He felt helpless.

The prince grunted, "We may be cousins, but that doesn't mean I won't have the guards put your head on a stake. Watch your mouth." With that, he swerved and stalked off, his servant in tow. Harold was speechless.

Simipour sighed in relief. "Master, how many times have I told you not to test the Prince?" The Sawk was still at a loss of words. The Simipour sighed again. The boy was dafter than normally today. What would Lady Angelica think? "Nevermind. You're all set and you will be riding in fifteen minutes. Would you like anything until then?"

Harold nodded, back to normal. "Uh, yeah, who are you?"

"You shouldn't be joking before an event like this, Master." The Simipour groaned and began to scribble on that little wax tablet of his. "My name is Felix. I was born a slave and I have grown up with you for the past sixteen years. You educated me when we were younger and now I serve as your personal scribe and loyal servant. My parents work as field hands in the outskirts, and I have no breathing siblings because they were killed for multiple escape attempts. Will that be all, Master Harold?"

Mew, He didn't need the guy's life story. He felt bad for him. "Y-Yeah, okay. Thanks. So… what am I supposed to do, exactly? With the Scolipede, I mean." The Simipour pinched the bridge of his snout. What was up with him today? He was taking playing dumb too far.

XXXXXXXXXX

The grassy plot must have been at the very least the width of a hundred football fields. Ringing it in an oval was a winding dirt road, worn from past races, and mirroring that ring were the stands. They were steep; so steep that Harold had to crank his neck to see the top. Every seat was packed with hollering Pokemon; most in light robes. There were some children up near the top that lacked clothing from the waist up, though. Either from the heat or the lack of materials he couldn't tell. It looked like the closer the Pokemon was to the front, the better off they were.

First they had had a long jump event, followed by a soccer game and wrestling. Miraculously, he managed to win all of them, but he'd made a rival in the process. His name was Gabe, a Grovyle. Harold could see him through the corner of his eye, watching him intently. The Tauros he sat on was stomping its hooves. The boy tried to ignore him.

From what the announcer was saying— whom he assumed was the bellowing Loudred in the middle of the plot— Harold wasn't too keen on participating anymore. "There will be six laps, no breaks. You may do as you please with your weapons, so long as the attacks are not fatal. If you fall off your steed, you're out. Other than that, anything goes."

Harold gripped the spear in his hand. Okay, so all he needed to do was race around the track for a few laps. Simple enough. Don't fall off when Frederik tries to impale him? He could probably do that. Right now, his biggest problem was the Scolipede. It kept bucking under him, impatient to begin. He didn't appreciate the pain its armor sent between his legs. He tried to keep the groaning to a minimum. Frederik, on his golden-armored Rapidash, stifled a giggle at his situation. Harold gritted his teeth and continued to try to keep himself steady.

"Stay calm," He told himself, "It's not like you've never seen this." Yeah, but he'd only seen little snippets of this in History class when they watched fifty year old documentaries. Pokemon rights Activists managed to censor anything else due to "Pokemon cruelty." He really wished they hadn't. If he died, his blood would be on their hands.

To the more lengthy side of the track, in the stands, was a box. It was situated smack dab in the middle, where those inside would get the most out of the race. Unlike everything else, it was made of wood. The inside was lavishly decorated, with- what Harold felt- were unnecessary amounts of food. The slaves that were feeding the Pokemon inside could probably eat it all, but definitely not the Seviper and Hitmonchan. Those two were sitting comfortably on plush cushions, shaded from the midsummer heat by the red roof overhead. Talk about privileged.

"On your marks!" Harold's eyes drifted back to Frederik's. The Hitmonchan stuck his tongue out and returned his gaze to the front, gloved hands ready to crack the reins. The Unovan frowned and did so as well.

The Loudred paused for effect. "GO!"

Harold couldn't help but cover his ear with one of his Pokemon were too loud, and the ring only amplified the noise. It didn't seem to bother Scolipede. The bug type was easily weaving through the competition, keeping its center of gravity low to avoid getting hurt by the frantic jabs other contestants were sending at them. Harold managed to use his spear to block the blows. He tried directing the centipede with his free hand, but that was quickly proven as a bad strategy. He sent the both of them crashing into the wall.

"Poor steering from Harold Jonathan!" The Loudred hollard.

"You don't say?" Harold growled. That little mistake had put them in last place. He quickly put both hands on the reins and gave a kick to Scolipede side. They weren't too far behind, at least. His main problem was the wall the other contestants had formed. He couldn't get around them.

The frustration was eating at him. He let his mind whir for some way out of this predicament, but none were logical. But, then again, the situation wasn't logical. He shrugged. The two slowed down just enough for him to lean forward and place his spear snuggly in the nooks of Scolipede's horns. The bug type lowered its stance once more and charged straight ahead.

They barreled through the wall, knocking two of the contestants off their Pokemon in the process. The crowd cheered. Harold grinned, but his celebration was short lived. The Pokemon in front of him sent a current of dried leaves his way, seemingly out of nowhere. They cut through his skin with surprising ease, and they did the same to his spear. The sliced pieces fell into the dirt. He tried hiding his face behind Scolipede, but the bug type's view had been blocked. It couldn't see very well.

Grovyle sent a few of his leaves under Scolipede, and it didn't take much for the big Pokemon to trip and flip over in the process. Harold whimpered. His face was about to collide with sand that was so packed that it could outdo cement, and his body would be crushed by a 450 pound bug.

"U-Use Rollout!" He screeched, closing his eyes. After a moment, he opened his eyes again, confused as to why he wasn't dead. He was face to face with Scolipede. Alive. Breathing. He glanced to the side and saw the colosseum spinning far too fast. He directed his vision back to Scolipede, who had a coy smile on his face.

Arceus is real.

Scolipede uncurled itself— carefully, so Harold wouldn't touch the ground— and they pushed on. Grovyle and his Taurus were left in their dust.

Fourth lap. Harold gnawed on his sleeve. Scolipede was an able bodied Pokemon but he'd pushed it too far with that last move. Despite its best efforts, it was beginning to run out of breath. That Grovyle would be on them again soon.

"Hold on, Scolipede!" He shouted, cracking the reins. "Just a little longer!" The Pokemon heaved and tried to keep running, but it was too much. Against Harold's orders, it stopped. Harold quickly undid his black belt and waited for Grovyle to come. When the grass type got close enough, the boy jumped.

He took the grass type by surprise, knocking him off, and just managed to take the reins. Scolipede did good, but he wasn't gonna lose, not when he was so close to first.

"Amazing!" Loudred's cheer was drowned out by the roar of the crowd. "Johnson has stolen Woodbury's Tauros! He's rushing past Kirkland and Brennan! He just passed Frost, Herman- Boyer! Gentlemen and ladies, he's catching up to the prince!"

Last lap. Frederik's Rapidash was sending fireballs across the track with its tail. Tauros was unfazed. It focused on the red. Harold attempted pushing him aside, but a quick jab from Frederik's spear kept him at bay. The Hitmonchan laughed,

"That was a bad move, cousin!" The fighting type directed Rapidash closer, pushing Harold to the stone walls. Harold winced when another erratic roar erupted from the crowd. They were nearing the finish line. "You might as well give up now!" Suddenly a spinning ball got between them. It unfurled just as suddenly as it appeared, knocking the prince's spear out of his hand. "What the-?"

Harold ditched Tauros and jumped onto Scolipede. The bug type kicked it into high gear. "Eat my dust, Frederik!" He shouted.


	4. Introductions

Act 1, Chapter 4

Introductions

Cassia was sitting in the crowd, closest to the finish line. Her heart fluttered when she saw her son rush past the Emperor's and win. She cheered loudly with the rest, waving at him. It was clear that the people admired him, and they applauded his performance with the utmost enthusiasm. They'd be talking for weeks. She felt a rush of pride when Harold stepped onto the podium between Frederik and Gabriel. He looked just as ecstatic as she did. A hush fell over the arena as Emperor Claudius slithered forward, Mara, Denorius and ten guards behind him.

Cairo congratulated all three of them with a speech that she was too happy to hear, He then turned to Harold and gave him his prize: a golden trophy, filled to the brim with gold coins. Aceline grinned and turned her attention to Mara. She was giving her son his silver trophy, filled with silver coins. The both of them were thoroughly embarrassed; cheeks redder than the gloves they wore.

Her good friend Alphonse, a military lieutenant, approached her as they filled out of the stadium. "Congratulations, Cassia! What do you say we go out to eat after the festival? To celebrate your son's victory." His wife, a pink and cream-pelted Furret named Estelle, nodded. She never spoke much, did she?

"Of course, Alphonse!" Cassia gave a small smile and laugh to the Linoone, "Though I'd love to stay and chat, I want to congratulate Harold as soon as possible." She excused herself and went to search for him.

Harold was getting congratulatories left and right. With one hand gripping Scolipede's reins and the other his winnings, he tried his best to politely thank the other racers and their families as he followed Felix. At least there were Pokemon who congratulated him but kept their distance.

Soon the hordes of nobles got bored with him, seeing that he wasn't boasting or the like, and left. By the time they had reached the stalls, the only souls there were Gabriel and an Ursaring who was taking care of his Tauros. He assumed the bear was the grass type's slave. He didn't like that word, slave. If this was a new world, why were there remnants of humanity's most obscene history here? Especially something like that?

As Felix was bringing Scolipede back into his stall, the Grovyle approached. He had a smile on his face and didn't seem disappointed at the slightest. "Harold, my friend! Hey, nice racing today!"

"T-Thank you, Gabriel." Harold said, shaking the grass type's hand. His grip was strong, though he made no attempts to give him any displeasure. "I'm sorry about knocking you off like that."

"Oh, no problem!" He laughed, "I just bounced off the wall and stole Waters' Tropius. Slower ride, but not too bad!" He laughed again. Harold joined in, though he still felt significantly awkward.

"Hey, Harold, what do you plan on doing with your winnings?"

"I'm not sure, maybe I'll save it." The Sawk shrugged, "You know, in case something happens."

Gabriel shook his head, "You're thinking too small, Harold. Far too small. What do you think's gonna happen, someone'll sue you? You're the Emperor's nephew, you're untouchable!" He laughed again. Harold tried his best to keep it light hearted. Who was this guy to talk to him like that? What's it any of his business what he did with his money? "You could buy yourself a chariot, a few new slaves, some land and, uh… a romp in the fields, if you know what I mean."

"No, I don't know what you mean."

The Grovyle cracked another smile, "Hey, you're quite the joker, Harold." He directed his attention to Scolipede, who was munching on a live Ekans as if it were nothing. The sight made Harold feel sick. He was never one for these kind of things. Gabriel seemed unaffected. After staring at the bug type for a few minutes, the Grovyle turned back to Harold.

"That's a nice Scolipede, Harold." He commented, "Could I perhaps trade you my Tauros and a few of my winnings for it?"

"What? No!" Harold snapped. The Grovyle was visibly taken aback by his sudden outburst. Harold coughed, "I-I mean… uh… my mother got him for me, see? I wouldn't want to disrespect her choices." The Grovyle nodded slowly, though there was a stiff silence between the two.

After a few awkward moments, Gabriel broke the silence. "Hey, well, speaking of mothers, I'm sure mine must be looking for me. See you around?"

"Y-Yeah, see you." The Grovyle headed out, Ursaring following closely behind. Not even a minute later, a Leavanny stepped in, wearing a light green toga. It reminded him of lettuce for some reason.

"Harold!" She smiled and scurried over, but tripped on something and fell into his arms. She laughed, "Oops, clumsy me!" Still, she gave him a surprisingly powerful bear hug before letting go. "You did great today, honey. I'm proud of you. Oh! Is this what you won?" Harold didn't even realize she'd removed it from his hand. "Wow, that's quite a lot of money! I'll hold on to it for you, okay honey?" Seeing Harold's face, she giggled and gave him a handful of coins.

"Don't spend it all in one place now~" The Leavanny gave a playful warning and strutted out of the stable.

Harold was speechless.

"Oh, and Harold!" The Leavanny appeared at the door once more, "Lieutenant Alphonse has invited us to dinner tonight. I expect you to be ready to leave at eight."

Once she left, Harold turned to Felix, who had finished everything up with Scolipede, "Who the hell was that?!"

The Simipour had had enough of Harold's games. "Your mother!" He snapped, "Can you not remember your own mother?!"

"Of course I can! But this is impossible!" He was a Sawk. Even preschoolers knew that Sawk were an all-male species. It would be possible for his father- whoever he is now- to be a Sawk, but not his mother. "If she were my mother, she'd be a… a..."

"A Ditto. Yes, she's a Ditto, Master." Felix seethed.

"Oh." His mother had been turned into a Ditto. Wow. He expected… well, he didn't know what he expected, but he'd never foresee a Ditto.

Felix apologized for his outburst- though his reluctance was evident- and they headed out to explore the festivities. Harold had never seen anything like it. The place was bustling with Pokemon he'd never seen before- even some from Kalos! He saw a Heliolisk and a Hawlucha performing a two-man play, a magician, and even a circus troupe! Some Pokemon played games with one another and there were even some small good-hearted battles. The seasonal parades and fairs in Nimbasa were nothing compared to this.

At one corner of the festival, he saw a mass of Pokemon kneeled before a stone altar, chanting as a Nidoking spoke words from a book in his hand. The scene didn't bother Harold at first, since he didn't care much for religion, but then they brought a Miltank onstage, slit its throat and drowned out its cries with louder chanting.

Harold did his best to drown out the memory. Nimbasa was nothing like this place, alright.

"Arceus, Felix, you've got to try some of this!" Harold exclaimed. He'd bought himself some grilled Taillow breast at one of the many stalls and was eating it heartilly. He handed the water type his extra, though he seemed reluctant.

"M-Master, you don't need to give this to me-"

"But I want to!"

"Right, but your mother has only given me permission for three meals a day."

"She ain't here now, is she?" Harold interrupted. The Simisear had been slurping up his drool since they'd left the stables and his stomach was still rumbling. He needed this. "Just eat it. If she sees you I'll tell her I ordered you to taste it for me. ...To see if it's poison or something."

Felix didn't ask anymore questions. He gave him a grateful look, made a quick prayer and devoured the meat in seconds. Needless to say Harold spent most of his money on food.

They noticed some street performers and claimed themselves a bench to watch while they ate. It was an interesting show; a dance routine between a Shinx and Quilava while a Buizel played the drums. The crowd clapped along to the enthusiastic beat. When they finished the crowd tipped them and dispersed, and that's when Harold noticed a Pokemon from the corner of his eye. He'd been wondering where he'd gone.

"Felix?"

"Yes Master?"

"Okay, first of all, stop calling me Master. It's weird." Harold ignored the monkey's protest and pointed at the Pignite. "Second of all, who's that? The Pignite talking with my, uh, mother?"

The Simipour's fur bristled and he hid behind him. "Denorius, sir. That is Denorius, the commander of the Royal Guards."

"Damn." Harold eyes widened. "Damn, Den really upped his game." How'd he go from a small-town gangster to a commander of all things?

That was when his mother noticed him and called him over. Attempting to hide their reluctance, the duo walked over. Den immediately gave Harold a strong handshake, making the boy wince. He tried to return the shake with equal strength, but it was nowhere near Den's. He swore the pig had crushed a few bones. Den made a sound that was somewhere between a hearty laugh and an oink. "So this is young Harold? He has strong hands!"

"Thank you… sir..." Mew, that sounded weird.

"Your performance today has been quite exemplary, Harold." He went on, "Tell me, have you ever considered joining the Royal Guard? I know it's a bit late to enlist but I could pull some strings..."

The Leavanny quickly cut in before her son could open his mouth. "Thank you for your offer, Denorius, but, as we have said multiple times, Harold will not be joining the Royal Guard." She cocked her head slightly and gave a smile that clearly read 'back off.'

"Don't you think it should be the boy's choice Cassia? It is his life, after all." Classic Den. He never could pick up his mother's facial expressions.

Catching his mother's eye twitch, Harold quickly shook his head. Think of something. "As much as I'd like to, sir, I'd rather not. I have to study; you know, broaden my knowledge. I'd hate to become ignorant of the world around me." Not too bad a fib.

Den was speechless. His mouth slightly agape and his brow arched, he looked paralyzed. His mother made the slightest smile before pulling him away. "Yes, well, my son and I will be late to our meetup with Alphonse. Excuse us, Commander."

Once they were out of the Pignite's hearing range his mother laughed. "Good job Harold. I was worried you'd actually agree with that fool. You, in the Royal Guards? What a horrid idea."

"Y-Yes, well-"

"No son of mine would ever join a group of meatheads like that." The woman shook her head, sticking out her tongue as if the words had left a vile taste. She then gave him a kiss on the cheek and practically skipped away. "Anyway Harold, enjoy the festival~"

His mother… she was something else.

_**XXXXXXXXXX**_

That night, while Harold was having an amusing dinner with one of the funniest ferrets in town, his cousin was getting held subject to his mother's unceasing anger.

"How dare you come in second place, when all the eyes in Amber are watching you?! You embarrassed the entire family!" Her shouts bounced against the pristine walls, making her son use all his willpower not to cover his ears at the heightened sound. The boy's once private study seemed to shake with every step his pacing mother took, the vibrations of her feet's impact reaching every corner of the rather spacious room. A stack of wobbling books on his desk caved, almost knocking over one of his imported candles. Frederik could do nothing but be silent, sitting on his desk chair with his head down as his mother fumed. He thanked Arceus his father had not yet returned from the meeting; he would've made the conversation worse.

"Do you know what people said behind your back?" The Hitmonchan roared. Her son had no contributions. It made her want to pull her hair out. "The people are questioning your leadership capability Frederik. They ask, 'How can he rule the country if he cannot even defeat a younger cousin in a race? Who is to say he could defend us?' Why, I heard some say you're second rate, compared to Harold!"

"It doesn't really matter," Frederik muttered, eyes still on the red carpet. "Harold isn't in line for the crown. I am. And they were just a few games. Games shouldn't determine my leadership skills."

But they do to them." Mara was desperately trying to get her point across, but Frederik wasn't hearing it.

"Mother, it's well known that Cairo is terrible at games but the people still love him!"

She shook her head. "You are not your father."

"But I am his son. And yours as well."

Frederik smiled at his mother, who stared at him for a moment before shaking her head and pacing again. Her son was too trustworthy; she knew Cassia. Cassia would go through any and all lengths to snatch Frederik's crown and set it on Harold's for all to see. Messalina could it in her eyes. Cassia was bad news.

Mara was adamant. She'd have to take care of the Johnsons. Put them in their place.

_**XXXXXXXXXX**_

Mara ordered two assassins, a Charmeleon and a Ninjask to go kill Harold under the cover of the moonless night. She'd double their pay if they brought her Cassia's head too.

The assassins attempt to kill Harold, but Felix had been up all night. He'd had a feeling something bad was going to happen, so he'd stayed up. He shot the most powerful water gun he could muster at the Charmeleon, waking Harold immediately. The two fought them off.

Felix got a nasty scar on his arm due to the Ninjask, but "it's nothing that time won't heal." the blue monkey smiled. Harold owed Felix his life.

""

Felix slept with unease that night. He'd wake up every few minutes, shaking with a cold chill gripping at him through the sheets. He'd look around his small room, get his bearings and calm himself, but the feeling would never really leave.

Sooner or later, he gave up. The Simipour climbed out of bed, lit himself a candle and stepped out. His room was located right next to the indoor garden, under Harold's so he'd be able to come at the boy's beck and call. His room was small and his bed took most of the space within it, but it was a step up from the moderately-sized bedroom where the others resided. He wasn't complaining.

The moon was hidden that night, by a faction of thick clouds. Felix couldn't see anything past that which the light touched, and although his vision was groggy and strained, his hearing was not. (That would be hard to do, with those big ears of his.)

The sound was soft but it was there. It was the most eccentric buzzing he'd ever heard- kind of a mix between a screech and a lofty hum- and it was coming from the sky.

The dim light of his candle managed to outline its- their- silhouettes. There was more than one creature up there. The first one was some sort of mutilated bug, and the second was an Eevee, or a Pokemon of the similar body type. Possibly a Shinx.

The buzzing seemed to grow louder on their descent into his bedroom roof, next to the young Master's bedroom window. He could hear their whispers now. Oddly enough, the duo were oblivious to the Simipour's presence. Taking the opportunity, Felix quickly ran up the stairs, doing his best not to make any noise to alert them.

"Mew, do you have to make that noise? You'll wake them all up, mrawr!"

"It's a bug type thing. Not like you would understand."

"It means you're the loneliest oversized cicada in town and you're desperate. That's what it means, mrawr."

"S-Shut up. Let's just get this over with." The bug huffed, making an abrupt stop of his mating calls. His partner laughed and they returned their attention to the task at hand. The first to enter was the cicada, who could easily melt into the shadows. He glued himself to the wall and waited for his partner to make the first move.

The Litleo, seeing as the coast was clear, entered. No sooner that he had stepped inside a torrent of water shot at him, sending him flying off the bed. He hit the wooden floor with a dull thud and hissed in pain.

"Master! Wake up!" Felix shouted, running forward to shake the Sawk awake, but he was quickly assaulted by the bug type. It clung to his face, biting as he tried to pull its spongy body away from him. His shouting quickly woke Harold, who jumped out of his bed and accidentally stepped on the Litleo's tail. The normal type screeched and released an ember attack, lighting Harold's wooden desk chair on fire.

That is to say, he shed some light on the situation.

Harold grabbed the Litleo by the tail and tried to hit the Ninjask off, but the bug type flew onto the wall again and he ended up hitting Felix in the face. The water type yowled in pain. "Oops, sorry Felix." Harold winced.

Litleo growled and bit his arm. Once he was released the small cub sent another fire type attack, this time to Harold's feet. "OW!" The fighting type jumped and tried to smack out the flames.

"Haha, mrawr!" Litleo laughed, "Serves you right!" Felix got ready to shoot another water gun but Ninjask returned. The same tactic didn't work, though, since the water type had anticipated it. He turned and spewed a torrent of boiling water at the bug type. Although it didn't seem to make any serious damage it sure was enough to dampen the Pokemon's wings. He dropped to the ground, making a sound that reminded Harold of the meatloaf they used to serve at school. Boy, was that a nightmare.

The Litleo growled at the fall of his partner. Eyes fixed on the Simipour, he reared up for a Take Down. Harold tried kicking him away, but the boy was terrible with his feet. He missed completely and fell on his back. Felix took a body slam to his side, knocking him off his feet and onto the Ninjask, who was just beginning to come to.

Harold had never heard the sound of a three-foot tall cicada getting crushed, and now he never wanted to hear it again. In was enough to make his blood stop cold, as well as everyone else's in the room. The Litleo, after a moment of silence, fled the room through the same way he got in, and nobody stopped him. They never saw or heard from him again.

At that point everyone on the estate had woken up and clamored to Harold's room. They saw a Simipour whose face was as white as a sheet. They helped him up, scraped the gooey mess off of him and led him to the baths. Cassia stepped around the left over goo to speak to her son. "What happened?"

"I think Felix just saved my life."

* * *

**A/N: I will not be updating for the remainder of the week and a little of the next due to summer school (pity me), but while I'm here I'd like to thank all of you who have decided to read my story, and all of you who reviewed and or favorited. No words can express my gratitude!**

**((Have you ever sat on a cicada? That ain't pretty.))**

**-PK543**


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